


It always works out better in the movies

by AnnieVH, MaddieBonanaFana



Series: SwanFire High School AU [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anti-Hook, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Swanfire - Freeform, only you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6711475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieVH/pseuds/AnnieVH, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieBonanaFana/pseuds/MaddieBonanaFana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High School AU. Emma's parents don't approve of her relationship with Neal, but he doesn't care and sets out to make a big romantic gesture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It always works out better in the movies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zoe19blink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoe19blink/gifts).



> THIS IS VERY MUCH ANTI-HOOK!

 

Emma decided to spend the night sulking in her bedroom upstairs. She was supposed to have gone to Lily's house and have a sleepover with her and Elsa, but after the fight she had with her parents she didn't feel like going anywhere. Although now, as she laid on her bed staring at the ceiling, that didn't seem like such a good decision anymore. This was probably the last sleepover they would have for awhile. Elsa was going away for college this fall and Lily was, as she called it, 'taking a year off' to travel with her mom. By the time they all got together again they'd be officially adults, too old for slumber parties.

Emma kept glancing at the phone on her nightstand, hoping it would ring any second now and she could hear Neal's voice again. Her parents didn't exactly forbid her from seeing Neal, but their judgment didn't go unnoticed. Dad just spent a long time ranting about his scruffy appearance, and mom, who measured her words more carefully but wasn't any less self-righteous, worried about how “that boy” would turn out. Most of the criticism steamed from the fact that he was Mr. Gold's son, though.

Mr. Gold was the most powerful and most feared man in Storybrooke, and her parents didn't have the best history with him. The man had quite a reputation of his own, a hearltess beast who showed no mercy in business. Emma knew that, and she couldn't lie, he was very intimidating, but Neal was nothing like that. He was sweet and clever, a bit of a smart-ass, but that always made her smile and laugh. On the rare occasions Mr. Gold had been mentioned, he'd seemed more impatient with his father than anything else.

Their parents couldn't see that. As far as they were concerned, the apple couldn't have fallen far from the tree. If their precious princess should date anyone, their first choice was Killian Jones, the golden boy of Storybrooke.

While Neal paid the price for being the son of the town monster, Killian reaped the benefits of being the younger brother of Lian Jones, a man who'd proven his bravery in the Navy and returned home a war hero. Killian played the part, claiming that he'd follow in his brother's footsteps one day, but Emma wasn't buying it. She knew him better than David and Mary Margaret, and she found him to be a misogynistic pig. And he kept circling her, like a vulture, making excuses to meet her, asking her friends about her...

Emma eyed the cellphone. She should call the girls, ask if it was too late to come to the slumber party. Or maybe she should call Neal. Her parents wouldn't like it, but that was just a bonus.

She was about to send Elsa a text when she heard the sound of faint music coming from outside.

 

_Looking from a window above_

_It's like a story of love_

_Can you hear me?_

 

At first, she thought it was a passing car, but the song didn't fade. If anything, it only got louder.

 

_All I needed was the love you gave_

_All I needed for another day_

_And all I ever knew_

_Only you_

 

She jumped out of bed and peaked through the blinds. What she saw made her heart swell. It was Neal, standing just bellow her window, a boom box raised above his head. For a paralyzing second, Emma didn't know what to do. Should she scorn him for all the noise, make sure her parents were properly distracted, or just run downstairs and give him and his stupid, overly dramatic not-a-boyrfriend a kiss?

She raised the blinds and opened the window.

“Hi!” he shouted up, above the sound of the music.

“Are you crazy?” she laughed. She couldn't help it. He looked so endearing. “What are you doing, Neal? My dad is going to kill you!”

“It was better than ringing the doorbell!” Neal shouted. Or, at least, Emma assumed that's what he meant. She could only make out the words “better”, “ringing” and “doorbell”. That boom box was really blasting!

 

_This is going to take a long time_

_And I wonder what's mine_

_Can't take no more (can't take no more)_

 

Their neighbors were going to kill her. No, they were going to kill _him_. Or, at the very least, throw things at him.

“Neal, you gotta go!” she urged him.

“Emma... love you.. Swan... care what... prom with me!”

 

_All I needed was the love you gave_

_All I needed for another day_

_And all I ever knew_

_Only you_

 

Emma shouted, “What?”

“I said prom!”

“I can't hear you!”

“I! Said! Prom!”

“What! About! Prom!”

“I asked- hold it!”

Neal started fumbling with the boom box, his excited expression crumbling under the realization that his romantic scheme hadn't taken into consideration just how loud a boom box could be. Though she had a pretty good idea what he was trying to say – or at least, she was hopeful.

Emma waited for him to stop the song. Unfortunately, while Neal was perfectly capable of handling an iPod, a boom box was practically an antique – he'd probably stolen it from his father's shop – and figuring out the many buttons in the dark was not an easy task.

It became even harder when the sprinklers went off.

“ _Holy shit_!” he shouted, running around her front yard, trying to protect the boom box from the cold, attacking water.

“Neal, no! Just go to the porch! To the porch!”

“ _I'm trying_!” he said, being blocked by another sprint of water that cut him off just before he got to her front door, keeping him running in circles.

How convenient.

Emma ran downstairs. Behind her, Mary Margaret came out of her and David's bedroom, sounding mildly annoyed, demanding, “Emma, _what the hell_ is that noise?”

David, who'd stayed behind to watch a movie, was currently in the garage, looking outside the window, and flipping the sprinkler switches.

“ _Dad_!” Emma shouted, accusatory.

“What?” David asked back, looking unnervingly innocent. “The grass was getting dry.”

“Stop doing that! Stop doing that right now!”

Her mother asked, “What is he doing?”

“He's attacking Neal with water!”

“He what?” Mary Margaret said, more confused than outraged.

“He showed up at ten o'clock with a boom box,” David said, like that explained anything.

On cue, Neal's helpless voice screamed, “ _Emma! A little help here_!”

“Okay, just, David, stop whatever it is you're doing.”

“But Mary Margaret-”

“David!”

“Ugh, fine!”

He turned off the sprinkles just as Emma opened the garage door and urged Neal inside.

Neal came in breathless, soaked-wet, and still clutching the boom box to his chest.

“Are you okay?” Emma asked. “I'm so sorry, my dad was being an ass.”

“Young lady, mind your language,” her father scolded, but his wife elbowed him in the ribs.

“I'm fine. I'm great,” he panted. Then he looked up at her parents and tried to compose himself. “Uhn, hi, Mr. and Mrs. Nolan.”

“Hi. Neal,” Mary Margaret said. David remained silent, his arms crossed over his massive chest and a less than friendly expression on his face. “It's a little late to play music, isn't it?”

“Yeah, I, uhn, sorry?”

“It's late,” David said. “You should go home and dry yourself.”

“He can't walk home like that!” Emma protested. “He's gonna get a cold.”

“She's right, David. Here, Neal, come in. I'll make you some tea and get you a towel.”

“Oh,” Neal said, surprised at the sudden outburst of kindness. He probably never got the impression her parents liked him very much. “Wow, thank you, Mrs. Nolan. That's really nice of you.”

“And then I can call your dad to come pick you up.”

Neal froze. And that had nothing to do with the cold. “On the other hand,” he said, “I don't live that far.”

“You live on the other side of town,” Mary Margaret said. “Don't be silly. Come in, lets get you warmed up.”

“I'll call Mr. Gold!” David said, as if he was claiming the privilege. Then, he ran inside before Mary Margaret could beat him to the phone.

Neal slumped. Emma patted his back.

“I'll make you your favorite tea,” she said.

Neal offered her a little smile. A consolation prize.

Then he eyed the boom box, as soaked as he was, and permanently ruined.

“Uhn... do you guys have, like, a _really_ big bag of rice I could dip this in?”

 


End file.
